


Never Been So Scared

by AnnaNocturnal



Series: Requests and Challenges [27]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angel Wings, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angsty Schmoop, Canon Compliant, Depression, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Possible Character Death, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Supernatural Kink Meme, Temporary Character Death, Wings, basically no one actually dies, but it hurts anyway, oh and if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:05:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4355435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaNocturnal/pseuds/AnnaNocturnal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cas dies, Dean is completely inconsolable. Because Cas <i>is</i> dead, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Been So Scared

**Author's Note:**

> **Title** : Never Been So Scared  
>  **Author** : girlgotagun  
>  **Pairing** : Dean/Cas
> 
>  **Prompter** : anonymous  
>  **Community** : [spnkink_meme](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/)  
>  **Prompt** : [LINK](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/97375.html?thread=37571935#t37971935)  
>  **Rating** : NC-17
> 
>  **Kinks** : hurt/comfort, fluff, schmoop/WAFF, angst, desperation, anal sex, fingering
> 
>  **Warning** : This fill deals with the concept of major character death; however, no actual major character death occurs.

The rules of the hunting life were supposed to be simple. Kill the bad thing; save the people you love. Well, Dean had killed the bad thing.

It wasn’t fair. More than that, it was painfully, irredeemably cruel. At first Dean drank. And then he drank more. But that somehow made it worse, because it didn’t make him forget. It made him remember. It made it fresh again. It played over and over in his head. Cas in the field. Cas with that stupid half-smile, that one that he wore when he knew something Dean didn’t. Cas not moving, not running. Cas, swallowed in a blinding flash of blue light. Cas—not much left of him—raining down through the air. 

The angel’s trench coat was folded up and tucked under Dean’s pillow, in the pillowcase. It needed washed. It was a mess. Covered in gore and pain. It probably smelled. Dean couldn’t tell, though. It was what was left; it was all that smelled of Cas. 

So he stopped drinking, but then he thought that maybe the alcohol _had_ numbed something, because the pain and the anger and the deep-down gut-wrenching sorrow came back stronger than ever. Dean was stuck, damned if he did, damned if he didn’t. 

And then there was the hysteria with that thought, because yeah, Dean was damned, probably. He was pretty sure that killing the bad thing too late to save an angel was enough to earn you eternity in Hell. And this time Cas wouldn’t bring him back. 

He slept with his arm draped over his chest, clutching the burn scar that Cas had left on his shoulder. It was the closest he would come to holding the angel’s hand. Not that he was much for hand-holding, really. But he’d give just about anything—no, absolutely anything—to even do that now. 

For awhile he held out hope. Cas had come back before. He just needed to wait it out. Wait patiently while whatever kept piecing Cas back together got the job done. 

Then he got angry. He lashed out at Sam, at victims during investigations, at God. He hated everyone. And what did it matter? Look what happens when you love people. He never should’ve bothered. 

Then…he prayed. He begged a god that he wasn’t sure he believed in, who had never helped him when he asked before, who Cas searched for unceasingly for a year, to just give Dean one more chance. Swore he’d protect the angel, swore he’d do it right this time. He’d do anything. Just…give him back. 

But that hadn’t worked. Of course that hadn’t worked. Dean was out of things to try; out of ways to deal with it. So he didn’t. Sam kept hunting. Dean stayed in the bunker. 

“Why bother, Sam?” He shook his head. He was tired; so tired all of the time. “Everything good in this world… Just being good is a fucking death sentence. We’re fighting a losing battle here. We always lose in the end.” 

Sam’s face was full of pity. Dean hated it. “Look, man. I know what you’re going through. When Jess died—” 

“You wanna grab the Ben and Jerry’s, or you wanna go work that case and leave me the hell alone?” Dean almost felt bad for snapping at Sam. Almost. But he felt bad about too much, too many bigger things, and there wasn’t much room left for more. 

Sam went on the hunt, and Dean stayed in the bunker, stretched out on the couch in his sweatpants as he stared at the television. He didn’t know what was on. Didn’t matter. 

His phone rang. He didn’t answer it. Let people save themselves for once. Wasn’t like Dean could save anyone when it really mattered. 

There was a minute of silence and then the phone started ringing again. He frowned and silenced it before slapping it down on the coffee table. He had just started to relax, started to think he’d be left to his grief, when the ringtone broke through the silence again. 

He flipped open the phone. “ _What??_ ” The person on the other end would think he was rude. He didn’t care. 

“Dean. You’ll have to let me in. The wards are—” 

Dean’s heart stopped. He barely dared to breathe. “Cas.” 

** ~~~ **

Dean stood at the door, staring. He couldn’t remember how he got there—couldn’t remember running, couldn’t remember stairs (or stumbling on the stairs), couldn’t remember flinging the door open. He was just suddenly there. And there was the angel. 

And then Dean was breaking, chest wracked with what might have been sobs, though no tears flowed as he stepped forward and pulled Cas into his arms. It was probably stupid. It had been too long and no one had answered his prayers, and that meant that Cas was probably a shapeshifter or a ghoul or something else that wanted to kill him. But if so, that was fine. That was fine, because it meant he got to see Cas one last time. He just hoped they’d kill him without doing the whole villain speech—let him think that his angel had come back until his last breath. 

“Dean.” Cas sounded surprised. “I got here as quickly as I could. I didn’t realize you’d be so worried.” 

“Worried.” Dean’s voice broke as he echoed the word. “It’s been _months_ , Cas. I was so far past worried.” He stepped back, gazed into the angel’s bright blue eyes as though he could confirm by looking at him that he was real, that he was definitely Cas. And why not? He had looked into those eyes enough. “Never been so scared in my life.” 

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” The angel frowned as if the thought had never occurred to him. Time didn’t have the same meaning for him as it did for the hunter. Cas had watched millennia pass, and he still felt quite young—still _was_ quite young, compared to some of the angels. “I was just—” 

Dean cut him off when he ducked down to press his lips against Cas’s. He needed to feel the angel against him, needed to kiss him and touch him; feel him. Know he was real, and back with Dean, and still his. Safe. 

The kiss deepened, tongues exploring and teeth nipping gently, building up to a passionate battle and then ebbing back to slow and soft, cycling through like the tide. By the time they parted they were breathing heavy, lips swollen and hearts racing. 

Dean pulled Cas inside, shaking his head as the angel opened his mouth to speak. They’d have time for that later. Later. Now, he desperately needed to feel him, touch him. It hadn’t been enough yet; his soul wasn’t yet quietened and soothed. 

They didn’t make it all the way to Dean’s room, instead landing on the couch that Dean had been laying on, pulling apart only to discard the last of their clothes. Various garments littered the steps and floor. At least it would be a fair warning for Sam if he came back, Dean thought. 

Dean reached into the couch cushions, deeper than he had expected, before his hand drew out a bottle of lube. They had stashed it there before. Before that night. Before the monster. Before Cas was gone. Before Dean was alone and his soul felt like it was ripping itself apart. 

Dean pulled the angel into his lap, guiding him to straddle his thighs as he leaned up to kiss him again. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to stop kissing him, ever be completely reassured that he was back. He flipped the top of the bottle open, slicking up his fingers and then running one between Cas’s cheeks, circling and rubbing over the puckered entrance, swallowing down the sigh of pleasure that the angel breathed out. When he finally pushed his finger in he let out a low groan at the tight heat. Everything he thought he’d be unable to forget…it turned out it had all been slowly slipping away, more intense in reality than he remembered. 

Dean took his time preparing the angel, working him open slowly and seeking out that bundle of nerves that made him arch his back and gasp each time the hunter’s fingers brushed over it. He watched the angel’s face closely, watched every bit of pleasure and need and love that passed over his face as Dean stretched him. He had thought that he remembered how perfect, how truly— _miraculous_ Cas looked at times like this. But it turned out his memory had failed him, and he felt like he was seeing it all for the first time again. It made his heart soar and shatter all at once; ecstasy for having the man back, agony for the time he had been lost. 

When Cas finally told him in that low, raspy voice that he needed more, Dean held his dick steady and guided the angel to take him in slowly, drawing a deep moan from the hunter as he was enveloped in hot, slick heat. Nothing had ever felt so right—Cas was there, back in Dean’s arms, and Dean was back where he belonged, and little by little the fear he had felt since he watched Cas disappear was beginning to abate. 

He gripped the angel’s hips tightly, helping to guide his movements as he rode Dean, taking him deep with slow rolls of his hips, head falling back as Dean’s lips travelled over every inch of skin he could reach. 

“God, Cas… Missed you. Missed this.” Dean’s voice choked off, with both emotion and the growing swell of pleasure within him as he thrust up, meeting the angel’s movements, driving in deeper and pulling a pleasure-filled cry from the man’s lips. 

And Dean knew it was coming; any minute now he’d find out if he really had Cas back, or if all of this was a horrible cruel joke or trap. He kissed and sucked at the sensitive skin of Cas’s neck, his eyes open and watching the air over his lover’s shoulder. 

It happened gradually as Cas’s moans and sighs became more frequent, as Dean’s hand moved between them to stroke the heavy cock pressed between them, as Cas hurtled toward the edge, muscles beginning to clench tighter around Dean’s cock. Cas’s wings manifested, spreading out in a wide arch of pure energy. The angel never could keep himself quite contained at that moment. And only Dean knew that—only Dean would know it was wrong if it didn’t happen. 

It was Cas. It was _really_ Cas. 

And Dean gave a sob of relief, his hand coming up to twist lightly into hair at the nape of the angel’s neck, holding him still as Dean arched up to press their lips together, a desperate sob bursting forth to be swallowed by Cas as Dean’s hips thrust up harder. 

The angel’s arms wrapped around him, holding him close as Dean hurtled off the edge and fell into the depths of pleasure, trembling and spilling deep inside of Cas. Cas, who he thought he had lost. Cas, who had been returned to him. 

Dean leaned back, pulling the angel with him to hold him against his chest. “Never scare me like that again.” 

Cas looked up at him with a small smile before pressing their lips together again. 

  
**The End.**   
_I hope you enjoyed it. :)_   



End file.
